


death in paradise

by noalarmsandnosuprises



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, headcannon i wrote to say i told u so @ my friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 15:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19175941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noalarmsandnosuprises/pseuds/noalarmsandnosuprises
Summary: Peter befriends a superhero on his S.H.I.E.L.D hijacked field trip. Unfortunetly for him, Beck lied on his resume and now Spider-Man has to deal with his wrath.





	death in paradise

**Author's Note:**

> endgame spoilers lol

Peter took the Europe trip as a distraction. For a couple of weeks, he could hopefully forget about the hand ripping his heart to shreds every time someone mentioned Iron Man and be a kid in the years he had left. Of course, knowing his Parker luck, this was never going to happen. He wasn’t very surprised when Nick Fury hijacked his vacation, tasking him with a mission he really didn’t want to be on with nothing but his webs and the two braincells he had left.

Then Quentin Beck appeared – a superhero by the name of Mysterio who came from another world. He told stories of the lives he had saved and the villains he’d stopped, and proved his heroic nature by basically protecting the entirety of Europe, saving millions of people and ancient artefacts from water-spewing, demon-like creatures. With his cocky smirk and his self-assured attitude, Beck happened to remind Peter of Tony Stark. And then one night, the superhero sat the vigilante down, offering advice over a bar, and the spiderling had latched onto him, desperate for another leader in his life. He’d been so blind after that - he’d missed the shivers his spider-sense gave him whenever they met up with Beck. Missed the confused look the agents suddenly took on whenever they questioned Quentin, missed his friend’s worried glances.

So when Beck had finally wiped off the condensation from inside his fishbowl-head and showed Peter who he really was, he was surprised.

~

“Peter,” MJ began, her sketchbook tucked under one arm, dress swirling in the wind. They were walking along a cobblestone street in Venice; MJ had wanted to add some faces to her crisis journal before they left for France. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, man, you don’t look so hot.” Ned commented, his hat of confidence balancing on his head.

“Gee, thanks.” Peter shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping forward. He toed the stones in the path with his sneakers. “I’m fine. Great, even. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

MJ moved closer to the spiderling, swapping her usual bored look for a concerned one. “Peter, you just saved a city from a giant fire beast in a lycra suit. I’m pretty sure you’re not 100% okay. You and that Beck guy got thrashed about a lot.” Peter shot her a glare, his heart not in it. MJ continued. “I don’t trust Mysterio.”

“I don’t, either, dude, he seems like a bad guy straight out of the comics.” Ned added.

“I feel betrayed,” Peter placed his hand on his chest in mock outrage, attempting to sound funny and not at all bothered. It obviously did not work, and MJ placed a comforting hand on his back. He leant into the embrace. “I just,” He took a deep breath. “I want you both to be safe.”

As if on cue, Peter’s spidey-sense went so haywire he doubled over in shock. _Hey, calm down, kiddo, you’re alright._ “Shut up,” He breathed. He felt MJ’s arms around his waist, Ned’s gaze glaring into his skull. He could hear furious texting, a dial tone, and a loud thud in the distance, followed by a sound that sounded _so similar to Tony’s repulsors._ “Mr. Stark?” He panicked, heart thudding. “Sir, oh my god?”

Mysterio’s lasers cut through the historical buildings with a single swipe. Flames leapt after them, sending people screaming. His gaze met Peter’s and he flew faster, fishbowl head on. “You don’t want any part in this,” Mysterio taunted at his friends, green gas unfurling from his suit almost tentacle-like. “Itsy bitsy spider’s gonna get squished.”

“MJ,” Spider-Man said, “Ned. You need to run.”

Ned didn’t need to be told twice – he was off sprinting to somewhere far away with a good computer and reception. MJ, however, stayed by his side, her hand curled on Peter’s bicep. “No!” She cried.

“MJ! You have to go, I-I’ll see you later, I promise. You have to get to safety!” Mysterio was a building’s length away. Peter could see the markings on his chest plate, he could smell the lies. He pulled off his shirt awkwardly, revealing the Spider-Man suit underneath. “Go!” When MJ didn’t budge, he choked back a sob and shot a web, his arm wrapping around her waist. He dropped her off on a bridge over a canal, his heart thumping.  


“Be safe, loser,” MJ whispered, so quietly Peter wouldn’t have been able to hear her without his enhanced hearing. She pressed a kiss to his mask-covered face and turning, running in the opposite direction to the hero-turned villain.

Not processing what just happened, Peter shot a web to the highest building he could see. He stuck to the side from his fingertips and toes. From his vantage point, he could see the city of Venice. Buildings, statues and thousands of years old artefacts had been obliterated as if a bomb were dropped. Telegraph poles fell like dominos, bringing power lines crashing over broken motels and screaming citizens. There was too many people and not enough time.

“Peter Parker!” Quentin called, and suddenly the two were on Coney Island, the water lapping at the sand, boxes and plane debris scattered across the beach. Toomes was charging at him, wings spread, lasers out. _Toomes didn’t have lasers_ , he thought, but rolled and dodged them all the same. “Where’s Mysterio?” He called. “What – where am I?”

“Hey, Pedro,” The Vulture called, dropping a plane wing from the sky. He threw himself to the left. _Why isn’t my spidey-sense warning me?_ When Peter got back up, his surroundings had changed.

“Peter,” MJ was trapped under the building he had moments before, her face oozing blood. “What have you done? This is all your fault.”

“I told you to run!” He screamed, chest heaving. He ran over to her, but every step he took she seemed to move further away.

“You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m dying, and it’s your fault. You couldn’t save me, you couldn’t save Ned, or May, or Tony.”

“May? Ned?” He questioned, sprinting over the sand, desperation clear in his voice. “W-what?”

His Aunt was stumbling across the kitchenette in their Queens apartment, a red stain blossoming on her new shirt. “Peter,” She gasped, steadying herself on the counter. “You go and kill Ben, and now me? We should have never taken you in. You’re a burden,” She spat, collapsing onto the linoleum, her wire-framed glasses tumbling from her now-limp face. The superhero teenager let out a wail, crumbling at the spot his Aunt’s body had been. “Nononono, May,” He sobbed.

There was a sound behind him, and he turned. Ned was slumped against the wall, a peppering of bullet holes marring his chest. “No – Ned, come on, bud, get up – “

“I helped you,” His best friend heaved, blood trickling from his mouth. “I saved your ass so many times, man. Why didn’t you save mine?”

“I’m sorry – I’m so sorry, Ned, don’t – you gotta hold on, man,” Peter stood frozen, his hands shaking. He looked down – blood coated his hands from his fingertips to his elbows. It seeped through the suit and into his skin and he cried harder, his eyes slipping closed.

“Kiddo?”

Peter’s heart stopped. He opened his eyes, tears spilling out onto the blood.

“Hey - kiddo – you gotta help me, I’m – Peter?”

He was on the battlefield. Thanos was behind him, his gauntlet empty. The stones sat in Tony’s weathering hand, crumbling into his blackened skin, melting into the disintegrating bone. “I don’t want to die,” Tony sobbed, falling against the rubble. He could see Pepper and Rhodey’s lifeless bodies out of the corner of his eye – Shuri’s and Thor’s and the Hulk’s. “I have a little girl, a family – you took that away from me.”

_We won, Mr. Stark, we did it, you did it sir –_

“Nononono,” Peter cried. “Please, sir, you can’t leave me – “

His spidey-sense suddenly went haywire. Mysterio was behind Tony’s decaying body. Peter couldn’t breathe – Mr. Stark was dying again, and it was all his fault. He’d killed his friends, his girlfriend, his aunt and his mentor. He had watched them all die and done nothing.

“How does it feel, Peter?” Quentin asked solemnly, placing a bare hand on the boy’s shaking shoulders. “Knowing that their deaths were your fault?”

 _Shut the_ **fuck** _up,_ Peter thought, swinging a punch with all the strength he could muster. Beck flew back, alarmed, and the scenery around him shifted. No more Queens apartment, no more bloodstained compound-battlefield. They were back in deserted Venice, standing on the rocky rubble terrain.

“You’re not going to win, Petey-Pie,” Beck taunted in a sing-song voice. He retracted his helmet, staring down at the spiderling. He didn’t even appear to be harmed. _How am I supposed to defeat him?_ Peter thought bitterly.

 _You’re an Avenger now, kid._ Tony’s words resounded in his head. The teenager collected his scattered brain cells and shot a web over the city, Mr. Stark’s words spurring him on.  As he swung over a church steeple, clutching to his web like a lifeline, something poked into his thigh underneath the suit. He waited for Karen to notify him of a laceration, and when she didn’t, he reached into the pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. They were the same ones he’d had on in the train, the pair of Tony’s iconic tinted sunglasses equipped with his ever-faithful FRIDAY AI. He’d stowed them away after he wore them, not wanting to get tears on the lenses. Peter didn’t remember putting them in his suit pocket at all.  


Beck soared over the rubble, green shooting out of his palms. MJ appeared again, the church steeple impaling her side. “You did this, Peter,” She sobbed, blood leeching onto the tiled roof. “Why’d you have to bring me into this?”

“I didn’t – I’m sorry,” He swung back, reaching out for his girlfriend. When his hand swiped through nothing, he stopped. “W-What?”

A laser pierced his side and he rolled, groaning, onto the glasses. Without a second thought, he rolled up his ruined mask and threw it to the side, gently placing Tony’s glasses on his face.

His senses suddenly sharpened, as if they were dampened by the green fog the villain was emitting. MJ was gone from the steeple, no trace of her ever being there present. He turned to face Beck, who wore a confused expression on his face.

“Oh my god,” Peter whipped them off, staring at the illusions. “You’re a fake.”

Quentin’s eyes narrowed and his face hardened. He dove for the kid, but Peter had had enough. “You tricked me! You’re the monster, Beck.” He shot a web at his face, jumping onto the man’s flying body and pummelling him with his fists. Not once in his patrols or missions did he ever get this violent – not even when fighting Thanos. But Mysterio had brought Tony into this, and _he was going to pay._

He dislodged the fishbowl, sending it flying to the ground where it cracked but did not fracture. Beck thrusted his hands out only to find they had been webbed up. Peter double-tapped his web shooters, sending a thin web flying around the villain, wrapping him tightly as though he were a Christmas present. The boy curled his hand into a fist, raising it high above his head.

 _Hey, kiddo,_ Tony’s – Beck’s words echoed in his brain. He remembered their time in the Compound all those years ago, Tony’s arm around his shoulders, Iron Spider suit in the distance. _He’s a good kid,_ The genius had said proudly as Peter walked away from the Avengers.

With a deep breath, Peter dropped his arm, squeezing his eyes shut underneath the mask in an attempt to stop the inevitable tears flowing. “Goodbye, Quentin,” Peter whispered, his voice crumbling. He heard the tell-tale sound of police sirens a couple of blocks away and he webbed the older man to the tiled roof of the church, turning away from the villain.

He drowned out the calls of his name and flew numbly. He crumped at the bridge where he’d left MJ, resting his head in his hands.

“Peter? Oh my god,” Someone’s arms were around him, pulling his head into their chest so his exposed face wouldn’t be seen by the helicopters and paparazzi he could hear arriving on the scene. There was a new voice. “You did so good, man. You were like, whoosh! And he was like bam!”

He raised his eyes – MJ and Ned were there. “I – I saw Tony. Mr. Stark.” Peter breathed, not caring about the tears streaming down his face. “He was there – you and Ned, and May – and Tony – you were all dead, dying.”

“We’re alive, Peter.” MJ bit her lip, fighting back tears of her own. She put a tentative arm around Ned and pulled their best friend in closer. “It’s alright.”

~

 “Why didn’t you kill him?”

Peter stood behind the wall of a high security cell. Behind a thick, bullet-proof glass wall was Quentin Beck, looking less like a hero and more like a tired man. He had been stripped of his weapons, his chest plate and cape, the machine on his back that emitted hallucination-inducing chemicals and his trusty fishbowl helmet. Beside him, his best friend Ned Leeds and his girlfriend MJ, both very much alive, glared at the man, although Beck could not see their stares through the one-way window.

Saying something heroic or cool wouldn’t have been the truth. Peter sighed. “I don’t know. I kind of wish I did,” He admitted softly, feeling ashamed.

“Hey,” MJ pulled his hand out of his left pocket and intertwined it with her own. “He’s a dickhead. He caused mass destruction to probably two worlds and hurt you badly. You’re a really good guy – I think anybody else would have murdered him. Except you, Peter – you’re so good it’s sickening.” She laughed quietly. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him, though, because now he gets to rot for eternity. And if he breaks out, I’ll bash his skull in with his own fishbowl.”

Ned whistled lowly. “Has anyone ever told you you’re scary?”

The trio laughed. MJ tightened her grip on Peter’s hand and Ned swung an arm around his shoulders, turning them all away from the prisoner.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)


End file.
